


Aftershocks

by Amaria_Anna_D



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Past Relationship(s), THE DEFENDERS SPOILERS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaria_Anna_D/pseuds/Amaria_Anna_D
Summary: A series of drabbles where the Defenders and their friends are left dealing with the events of Midland Circle.





	1. Danny

_Danny_

 

Weeks later, Danny can’t get Matt’s whispered words out of his head. They follow him now like the ghosts of K’un Lun. He’s meditated on those words probably a dozen times and can’t find any peace in them yet. Matt meant to die in that rubble with Elektra; Danny is certain of that. He can almost accept his friend’s sacrifice... _almost_. It’s the words that Danny struggles with. “Protect my city,” Matt had said, like he didn’t remember that Danny had already failed one city, one people. True, it could have been and more likely was a message for the whole group, but the words had been said directly to Danny. New York—Hell’s Kitchen, in particular, was now Danny’s responsibility. The weight of it felt like an entire building had been dropped on him as well.

Danny doesn’t say what he’s truly thinking about any of it to Colleen. He knows that she can feel he’s holding something back, but he can’t seem to find words to describe exactly what he’s feeling. The Hand is gone—all five fingers severed—but that victory doesn’t diminish what he’s feeling right now. How can he put it into words that will make sense to Colleen? Taking the coward’s way out—as usual—he says nothing. He simply kisses her goodbye and slips out the front door of the dojo nearly nightly and heads to another part of the city that is becoming his home.

He’s amazed how well he’s beginning to know Hell’s Kitchen. Though, he doubts he’ll ever know it in even a fraction of the scope that Matt did. The dark corners and crumbling blocks don’t spill the same secrets to him. The rooftops don’t beg him to leap across them. This is still very much Matt’s home, not Danny’s. But he feels almost like a welcome guest as he makes the familiar trek. He knows each creaking floorboard in Matt’s abandoned apartment by heart. Even amongst the sheet covered furniture, he feels at ease.

After it had been decided that none of them would officially come out with the truth about what happened in that tunnel, the unanimous decision to let Matt remain a missing person had led to some interesting problems. The NYPD’s decision—largely based on the mysterious evidence they had and the legal prowess of Jeri and company—to leave them alone was only the start of it. Matt had dozens of cases that were left dangling. Foggy was able to pick up most of those with the help of another lawyer in his firm. Foggy also had the weight of Matt’s finances—or lack there of to contend with as well—and that was where Danny had stepped in.

Not even making a dent in his checking account, Danny had paid the bills on Matt’s apartment for the next year. On paper, it would look like the vain hope of finding a missing person, someone who was much beloved by his community. In reality, it was just one more way for Danny to sit in his denial. Danny could still picture exactly how Foggy’s face has had looked when he said that he thought they ought to keep the apartment rather than clear it out. The lawyer had looked equal parts devastated and enraged while still having an air of resignation about him. He’d stared at Danny for a long minute before nodding. Days later, Foggy had dropped off a set of keys to Danny at the dojo with the implied message that the place was now Danny’s problem.

Helping himself to a bottle of water from the fridge, Danny stood by the window and watched the billboard across the street change for a minute before heading up the stairs to the rooftop. This too felt familiar by now. He made his way to the corner of the rooftop and perched on the edge lightly, surveying the streets below.

He may not be completely comfortable with being the protector of a city again yet, but he was going to give it his all. He owed that much to Matt.


	2. Luke

Hell’s Kitchen isn’t exactly a foreign territory to Luke. Before Jessica and Killgrave, he’d been hiding nicely there for a few years, running his bar and keeping his head low. After his life was literally blown to bits, though, he’d avoided the place. He didn’t need any reminders of Reeva or of Jessica in his life. Harlem was his refuge now. Pops had instilled in him a sense of community there that he hadn’t felt in Hell’s Kitchen. An argument could be made that it was the Black community of Harlem that made the difference versus the gentrified and white people of the Kitchen, but Luke still felt that mostly it had been Pops that looped him in, pulled him from his own self-serving desire to remain anonymous. Harlem had given Luke a purpose in a way that Hell’s Kitchen never had. If it wasn’t for Matt, Luke probably would have never looked back on his old neighborhood and left that part of his life firmly closed in the pages of his life.

These streets had been Matt’s mission both in his shabby suits and in his cheesy-ass costume. While Luke can’t abandon Harlem completely to take to the rooftops the way that Danny apparently ha, it won’t kill him to take a stroll every now and again. He keeps his visits irregular and at odd hours. At first, no one seems to notice him much. Even with his unusual size, his discreet hoodies don’t make the impression that the Devil’s horns had. It’s not until Turk’s big mouth spreads the word that there is a bullet proof vigilante on the block that people start to take notice. Mostly, his presence is enough to keep people on the straight and narrow while he’s in town, but a few times he ends up “calming” a situation down.

After one of those times, he finds himself answering questions to a few black and whites on the corner. Someone had thought it was a good idea to steal a car at a stop light not realizing there was a baby in the back seat when he threw the shrieking mother out of the driver’s seat. If Luke had happened to be jay walking through that intersection and accidentally in the path of that car as it sped off, it wasn’t exactly a crime to get hit by a car. Was it? The cops had been less than happy about the whole thing, but didn’t have a damn thing to charge him with besides a ticket that wasn’t worth the paper it would take to write it out. He’d brushed aside the mother’s tearful thanks and the officers’ disdain with the same casual manner as he did the bits of head light that managed to make their way to his shoulders before heading to a little pizzeria down the street.

He took his order of a half pie to a corner booth and people watched as he downed most of a soda in one gulp. There were a few people in the restaurant that recognized him, and the flashes from a few cellphone cameras caught his eye, but mostly he was ignored. It wasn’t until he was wiping away a bit of sauce from his lips at the end of the meal that anyone approached him.

The man that slides into the booth uninvited was a slender black man in his thirties. He has a tiredness in his eyes that combined with his gray suit somehow scream cop. Luke eyes him for a long moment. His experiences on both sides of the law have made him wary of police. He couldn’t make up his mind if this particular cop is going to be trouble or not. Judging from the way he leaned back easily against the booth, Luke would probably put his money on not.

“So Harlem’s Hero saves an infant and her mother and claims he happened to be walking out into the street at that exact moment,” the cop murmurs with his lips twitching upwards at the corners. “You have to admit that’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“I was just out for a stroll.” Luke shrugs. “No disrespect, detective, but I already gave my statement to your uniforms down the block.”

“I’m not here to talk about that.” The cops eyes flash with a sadness that isn’t entirely unfamiliar to Luke these days. “My name’s Brett Mahoney. You and I’ve got a couple of mutual acquaintances.”

“Misty Knight one of them?” Luke asks, a hunch building in his gut.

Mahoney nods. “She is. Saw her the other day in rehab. She’s lookin’ stronger every day,” he mutters. It’s only half a lie and not worth calling him out on, so Luke let’s him continue. “I also know you’re lawyer. Franklin Nelson’s been a pain in my ass since we were six years old.”

Luke chuckles. “Cops and defense lawyers aren’t supposed to be friends.”

Brett grins. “Like I keep tellin’ him; it ain’t the jobs.”

“So we know some of the same folks. Is there a reason you decided to swing by and tell me?” Luke asks, sobering. He leans back and crosses his arms across his chest. It’s not a gesture that he means to be intimidating, but if it is… well, that isn’t always such a bad thing.

“There’s one more person that you and I both know—or possibly knew.” Brett’s eyes are like laser pointers right into Luke’s. “Just wondering if there’s anything you can tell me… off the record, of course.”

“I gave Misty and the rest of the task force all of information I have on Murdock’s disappearance. Anything else you need to ask me can go through my attorney. I’m sure you don’t need to write his name down,” Luke says blandly. Lying about Matt’s death feels a lot like taking that rocket to the gut, but he does it anyway. For dozens of reasons, Matt needs to remain a missing person. He can’t tell Mahoney that Matt died a hero or what they were fighting for down in those depths. It all has to come out in rehearsed lines that don’t mean more than a pile of shit.

Brett lets out a long sigh, but nods. He moves out of the seat and straightens his suit needlessly. “By the way, anytime you want to take a stroll in the Kitchen, know that you’re always welcome here.”

“I heard this was a safer place with your guardian Devil,” Luke mutters, feeling slightly sick.

“Devil ain’t been around much these days,” Brett replies grimly. “At least, not in his red get up. But I hear that he might be running around in a dark, green hoodie at night. Who knows?”

Luke watches the detective leave the restaurant before he let’s himself chuckle. A dark, green hoodie. He’s going to have to talk to Danny about stealing his style.

 


End file.
